


He is Fire

by Eavenne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cell Phones, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 01:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14885468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eavenne/pseuds/Eavenne
Summary: Russia is distant, but America is close by.





	He is Fire

He is fire. 

She watches America from across the meeting room, and frowns. Like a drummer he taps out an incessant, steady rhythm, his fingers beating the table mercilessly; underneath, his feet kick the floor and swing through the air in a random state of perpetual motion. 

Fire leaps at the sky and hungers for oxygen; America looks around restlessly in an endless search for something more. 

Perhaps that’s why Russia hates him, Belarus thinks, but somehow the voice in her head is weak and she can’t convince herself of it. How pathetic, she wants to say, how pitiful of him. 

What’s the point of reaching for something that you can never have? 

—- 

 

When she approaches, her brother’s eyes widen and he rushes away. 

Perhaps she’s used to it by now, but Belarus feels her heart tighten nonetheless. It doesn’t make sense – she knows how much Russia yearns for love, and here she is offering it to him with open arms, so why won’t he just let her in? 

But suddenly America’s voice rings out behind her and he says, “Hello,” and out of nowhere Belarus thinks that he’s near enough to touch. 

He’s closer than Russia ever is, she realises, but her mind isn’t making sense and she banishes the thought. Tilting his head, America watches her intently. “I get the feeling that Russia doesn’t plan to get married to you,” he says, his tone annoyingly light, “so why do you keep trying?” 

Though she glares at him, Belarus sees that America’s eyes conceal nothing and that his expression bears only curiosity. If anything, his innocence only makes him more irritating. “You don’t understand,” she snaps, and walks away. 

For the rest of the meeting he squints at her and frowns, as if she’s a puzzle that he’s struggling to piece together. 

—- 

He’s still there. 

Somehow, all the threats in the world won’t make America leave her alone. Day after day he calls or texts her and asks why she’s hopelessly pursuing someone who won’t love her back, and though Belarus blocks him and sends him angry messages there’s nothing that will deter America in his pursuit of the truth. 

She faintly wonders if she can sue him for harassment, but quickly realises that she’s been doing the same thing to Russia for years on end. 

Perhaps that’s why her brother doesn’t want to be around her. 

—- 

She gives up. 

They meet on a chilly Saturday afternoon. It’s a miracle, Belarus thinks, that America actually flew all this way just to meet her - but his earlier persistence was already unusual, so perhaps this isn’t so strange. 

“You’re very annoying,” she says as a greeting, but America only smiles at her with that impenetrable confidence that is his second skin. 

“You’ve been doing the same thing to Russia for ages,” he says, taking a step closer, “so I figured you could use a taste of it yourself.” 

Her eyes narrow even as his words echo in her ears. He’s not wrong. “Well?” America prompts, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you after Russia?” 

And though she opens her mouth to reply, Belarus’ mind spins and she doesn’t have the words to explain it. It’s always been Russia – there’s nothing more to it than that, for she simply needs him in her life and can’t let go – and yet he’s as cold and distant as the deepest winter and the thickest ice. 

“I don’t know,” she whispers. And suddenly something warm envelops her fingers, and she looks down in surprise to see her palm closed within America’s larger hand. 

“Well, you don’t have to chase him anymore.” 

Her eyes widen. There’s something comforting about America, like the gentle embers that glow and flicker in her fireplace. His gaze is tender, and his eyes are suns that melt the ice in her heart – 

He is fire.


End file.
